


Cupcake Adonia

by ShunRenDan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Everything is ok, F/M, Fluff, Fluffysmut, Rare Pairings, Romance, Smut, Twilight Town (Kingdom Hearts), Vanilla, Very fluffy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 17:44:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17626769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunRenDan/pseuds/ShunRenDan
Summary: Roxas never had to tell Olette that she was pretty, but that didn't stop him from doing it literally any time he got the chance. Sure, he wasn't the most experienced boyfriend in the business, but it just felt like the sort of thing a boyfriend needed to do — it was what they always did in the movies.





	Cupcake Adonia

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a request. The world needs more fluff.

Roxas never had to tell Olette that she was pretty, but that didn't stop him from doing it literally any time he got the chance. Sure, he wasn't the most experienced boyfriend in the business, but it just felt like the sort of thing a boyfriend needed to do — it was what they always did in the movies.

Sometimes, he would tell her when she was in the middle of cooking dinner. More than once, it came at the end of a long, hard day. Other times, it would whisper-fumble out in the middle of something more intimate, privately buried somewhere between kisses that trailed across the borders of her chin and the framework of her shoulders.

Part of him loved to do it purely for her response, the way she inhaled sharply, the tension in her entire body rising even as they worked in tandem to quell it. It was a part of the game, and it was something that she could only hear from him, after all.

She wasn't dating Hayner, and she wasn't half-asleep with Pence. Nobody else was curled up with her in the lateness of the evening but him, and he couldn't imagine his words better spent in any other way.

Nor could he imagine a better place for his lips than the crook of her neck, a better sound than her sigh of both frustration and relief as she rolled over to shush him so dramatically that she might've actually been some secret, sexy librarian in disguise.

"Roxas," she whispered, her voice low, "we should be asleep. We have to be up early tomorrow. We're going to the beach, remember?"

"Sand's overrated," Roxas whispered back. "We go to the beach every weekend."

"Hayner and Pence are gonna wonder where we are if we don't go."

That was true, but…

She dramatically rolled back over before he could manage a reply, turning her back to him once again and nuzzling up so that her back was pressed against his chest. Flashes of sweet hibiscus and warm chocolate, nestled somewhere in the messy brown hair that he buried his head against, made any dreams of sleep impossible. Roxas wrapped his arms around Olette's waist and pulled her in just a little closer to press his lips against the crown of her head.

She let him linger there, his lips twisted up in a half-smirk, only to dramatically roll back over a minute later. She looked so serious that she must have had something of mighty importance to say. That seriousness waited in her eyes for him to challenge her.

"What?"

"You are impossible," she replied.

When she didn't pull away, Roxas leaned in a little closer, his heart caught in his throat. It probably wasn't all that good to gloat.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

In lieu of offering him a proper response, she rolled her eyes and laughed, leaning in to press a kiss against the bevel of his chin.

"We really should be going to bed," she said. "Before it gets too late."

Roxas retorted with a gentle kiss to the forehead, then another to the top of her head when she leaned in so that her face was settled into the crook of his neck. The next few seconds were a blur; she peppered him with kisses against his neck and chest, somehow rolling on top of him so that she could look down on him from above. The blanket went flying to the floor, discarded somewhere near the eighty excess VHS tapes that littered Roxas's floor.

She pinned his arms to the bed.

He laughed.

"What, are we fighting now?"

"Yes," she said, her grin barely hidden. "We're fighting now. We're going to go to bed and wake up early."

"Like normal people?"

"Like normal people."

Roxas looked up at her from below, studied the curvature of her chin and memorized the way she pouted at him. He committed to permanence the pride in her face, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath, and the bubbly laugh that sparkled out when he rolled and flipped things around, taking them both off of the bed and onto the blanket pile they had created.

She wrapped her arms around him without reservation, still laughing when he pinned her by the wrists to the comforter, breathless by the time she stopped. She struggled, a little, and let out the most dire huff in the history of huffs.

"What're you staring at?"

"You," he said.

He pressed his lips to her neck once, twice, a third time before dragging them toward the hem of her orange and very oversized tee. One knee dug into the blanket at her side, brushed against the fabric of her totally-not-a-boy's-boxers, and came to rest while his hands roamed her sides.

"We could go to sleep, I guess," Roxas taunted, straddling her. "Like normal people."

Olette's hands reached for his waist, roamed up under the cotton of his shirt, spread out across his torso. For a second, he was pretty sure she was about to say something tender and heartwarming — and then she shoved him off of her with such force that his back thudded against the blanket-covered floor.

"We could," she began, crawling over top of him.

Her fingers went low, dug into the bottom of her shirt, and pulled it over her head without much fuss.

"But I don't think you're a normal kinda guy, Roxas."

That much was true.

Roxas was many things: technically once heartless, a man from the stars, a person-in-name-only. He was not normal, however, and he figured that was why he liked Olette as much as she did. She grounded him in ways that others couldn't, and he loved being able to say that she was his and that she wasn't going to be swallowed up by the darkness or eaten by a monster or that she'd been dead any time in the last six months.

His girlfriend — who was also a totally normal human being and not a space princess, yet — looked down at him from above and he nearly melted beneath her.

His blue eyes explored the forest-seas in hers, swung lower, to where a simple, black bra covered her modest chest and waited above her flat stomach. His fingers rose to greet her hips, dug into her flesh, and helped her adjust atop him before she leaned down to find his lips once again.

He didn't know how long it was before her lips parted to allow his tongue through, how long she spent relishing in the taste of her, or how long they spent rolling and rolling. What he did recognize was the moment he unhooked her bra, and the sound of it as it smacked into the television on the other side of the room. He remembered her first gasp when he first bit down, gently, into the flesh of her neck.

It was hard to forget the sound of her gasping in his ear, each breath creating a surge of something primal in him that stole the tension away from his shoulders and left him hungry. How could he lose track of the way she ground her hips against his, or the way they moved together, his back to the edge of the bed as they bathed in the twilight?

She pulled him close and he shuddered, a familiar bulge growing beneath the fabric of his shooting star boxers.

"Someone's excited," she whispered, leaning so that she could breathe into his ear. "Is this why you were so eager earlier, Roxas?"

She rocked her hips, once, and Roxas stiffened.

"Don't worry," she continued, "It wasn't obvious or anything."

"Olette, we're dating, it doesn't need to be a secret," he pouted, practically throwing her back onto the bed.

She was laughing when she discarded her boxers, pleased that Roxas did the same with his own clothes before jumping onto the sheets after her.

He started with her belly — little, butterfly kisses here and there, trailing down to her waist until her legs were over his shoulders and he found himself face to face with a little slice of heaven. There, he delayed her gratification, offering a slow, long lick to the inside of her left thigh.

Then her right.

And finally, he paid his tithe by offering a gentle kiss to the subtle tuft of hair above her palace. Her thighs tensed around his head in anticipation of what was to come as he lowered himself. One hand spread out over her belly and the other came to rest above her entrance, his thumb planted squarely on her jewel while his tongue explored everything below with a long, painfully slow stroke.

She shuddered in response, and her fingers gripped the sheets. Surely, Roxas's thumb ran across her gemstone in correspondence with a particularly quick lick of the tongue, and Olette's hips bucked upward before she could stop them. At once, he increased his pace, lapping at her nethers in fervent awe of the woman unspooling at the end of his tongue. Words fell free of her lip with every movement, both muffled and meaningless while she showered him in admirations he couldn't begin to hear.

It had been so long since they'd had some time to themselves that the itch building in her couldn't be ignored. Olette brought the back of her palm to her mouth and bit down hard on her knuckle, trying to muffle the breathless sound of her slow-building moans.

When Roxas lifted his tongue to her gemstone, she bucked again, relishing in the feeling as his hands sank to grip her thighs in place around his head. Both of her hands flocked downward to find the tangled mass of blonde that waited for them, wrapped themselves up in his hair, and gripped tight as he applied pressure to her most sensitive spot.

With each second and each stroke of the tongue, the itch and the heat burning in her belly built. Brick after brick, stone after stone, wave after wave, it came to a crescendo — and then Roxas went to pull away.

She didn't allow that.

Her hands immediately guided him back and he picked up exactly where he might have dreamed of leaving off, his tongue swirling circles around her spot as if it were a whirlpool. Fast, then slow, quick, then hesitant — and then hurried and so urgent that her thighs squeezed tight around his ears and she felt certain that she would somehow crush him with the inevitable feeling brewing inside of her.

The entirety of her lower body tightened in response to that feeling, one both certain and uncertain, and her eyes squeezed shut despite her desire to take in the sight of the boy currently relieving her of all her worldly tensions.

There was the sound of thunder, a flash of sea-salt blue.

Olette breathed a heavy breath, letting free a whimper as her tension unwound itself without warning. Her stomach churned and her hips rallied against her boyfriend and his mouth; her fingers pulled at his hair and pressed him down harder while the whole world faded, briefly, to static.

And then she relaxed.

Her toes uncurled, her knees went limp, and her breathing slowed.

Redness gathered in her cheeks and a thin sheen of sweat matted her hair to her forehead as she straightened in bed, propping herself up on her elbows. Roxas, below, looked absolutely shellshocked. His hair was a disheveled mess and his chin was covered in either spit or something else and he looked so confused that she felt certain he must have been—

"Did, uh…"

He paused, pursed his lips.

"...You're pretty?"

If her legs weren't dead, she'd have spartan-kicked him right off the edge of their bed. Instead, she just laughed as he placated her with two more quick, faux-worried kisses to the inside of her thighs.

"Roxas, don't be such a dork," she joked, rolling her eyes.

"I'm just saying?"

"You don't have to say anything, you goof."

"D'you…?"

He peered up at her from between her legs, the painful stiffness between his legs plain to see. He gotten himself so worked up by working her up that it was almost endearing.

"Do you have…?"

He dove across the bed to the nightstand, rifled through his top drawer for a second, and spun around with a small, colorful square in his hands. 

All instead of replying. 

Olette used her hopefully sarcastic seeming silence to study him from her spot on the bed. There were any number of angles that favored Roxas, but her favorite might have been the one she saw him from in that moment.

Strips of halcyon twilight bled across his body like gold paint and ran like water over his hair while the shade over the window cast his entire left half in shadow.

Roxas was a highway of lean muscle and a certain, indescribable roundness — he was Adonis baked into a cupcake, and her first sign that he was actually a supernatural being should have been the fact that he managed the vague outline of abs without having ever touched a gym. 

It was so strange that he was hers and that she was his with so little fuss that the universe must have cursed him with just the right amount of dorkhood and broodiness to compensate. 

"Go ahead," she sighed, covering her face while he pulled the condom on over his manhood.

It wasn't long before he was draped over her like sunlight over a curtain, his lips exploring the hollow of her neck and his fingers tracing circles into the round of her hips. He took his time in nursing her back from the brink of her last exaltation, coaxing her to life with little teases and affirmations.

When he braced himself at her entrance, she squirmed, clenched the sheets, and nodded. 

The moment he pushed inside of his love, the world gave way to stars that swam inside of his eyes. He could feel her every breath as he brought one hand down to her jewel and leveled the other in the sheets beneath them. Sweat beat down his brow and he felt her clench to accommodate him. 

Had she always been so tight?

Breathless for only a moment, Roxas persevered.

One thrust, then two — three granted him his rhythm and he felt his manhood grow to full attention as the two of them fell further into each other with each stroke. 

"Olette," he groaned, feeling her legs tighten around his waist. Her arms looped around his neck.

He lifted her from the bed with only a subtle squeak as an objection and held her firmly by the ass as he planted her against the wall. Gasps were traded for quiet moans and her lips worked tirelessly against his chest, whispering quiet swears and curses into his skin as if it would keep her words secret for a lifetime. 

"Hey," he whispered, breathless, caught. "Look at me."

When she didn't look up at him, he thrusted harder. 

"Faster," she whimpered.

"Only if you look at me," he replied.

"Olette?"

She met his gaze and the world around them fell away, replaced by the eternity of the moment. The familiar fire from before had returned, but its reach now consumed her, broiling away the imperfections that lurked between them. 

"Roxas?"

"I love you," he managed, lips seeking hers one final time.

Her muffled reply was cut short by the way he crashed against her and the feeling that welled up inside of her. The loop of her arms around his neck drew tighter, and his fingers, greedy, dug in, leaving behind red marks that wouldn't fade by the time morning came. Her entire being caught fire and his lips missed their mark, sending the blunt of his forehead crashing into the wall in the instant that he lost control.

Seeing him sent over the edge cast her to perdition alongside him, and she buried herself in him as the world went white.

There, with her head resting on his shoulder, wrapped in the scent of sex and sweat, Olette pulled herself together long enough to chide him, her voice light and airy in the aftermath of their shared moment.

"I love you too, Roxas," she whispered into his skin, no longer conscious of the secrets it may or may not deign to keep.

"I know," he breathed.

For a moment, everything was still. He held her aloft, against the wall, leaning on both her and it for the support he needed to stay up. After what felt like an eternity, he shifted so that he could look at her.

Her face was so red that he thought she might faint.

"Is everything okay…?"

She swallowed back a ball of apprehension in her throat, looked down, and nearly died of embarrassment.

"Y-yeah, but…"

"Huh?"

He was redder than her by the time he realized what the problem was, and she almost didn't need to ask.

She did anyway.

"Can you… er, let me down now, Roxas?"


End file.
